


Never Been Kissed

by MissAnonWrites



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Geek Love, Gen, Nerdiness, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:52:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAnonWrites/pseuds/MissAnonWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader/OC becomes curious about an older student in her Particle Physics class...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Been Kissed

I had only chosen to take classes in particle physics because i was curious. Just for one semester. Ordinarily I was holed up in sociology and law lectures, and fancied a change of pace.

At least particle physics was theoretical, so i wasn’t completely out of my depth. Theories i could cope with - strange equations on blackboards i certainly couldn’t.

I looked conspicuous enough. Paramore t shirt, skinny black jeans, biker boots and a bevvy or wrist bands that scrape against the desk whenever i jot down notes.

Me, amongst the well-turned-out geeks. Sure, there are a couple who look like they read comic books (someone near the front is wearing a Flash t shirt), however for the most part, they are all in ironed slacks, clean and pressed short sleeved shirts, and there is an overwhelming abundance of glasses.

And… at the end of my row is an interesting guy. He looks older than us - maybe a mature student? - in his thirties, I’d say. In geek-wear like the rest of them - complete with a _bow tie_ \- furiously writing notes.

However he suits this look. He reminds me of… yeah, that’s it, almost like Doctor Who if Doctor Who was a scientist.

Oh crap he’s looking my way…

He’s actually kinda cute.

He smiled at me! Oh gosh, I wasn’t expecting that. He’s _gorgeous_. Slim yet fit, with elegant fingers, and cheekbones that could cut glass. Not ordinarily my type though, so this is strange. Usually I like guys who look like they play in bands, or surf…

Yeah. That guy’s just not my type. Back to the physics.

Ugh but I can’t concentrate. A quick peek at him won’t hurt.

He’s gazing intently at the lecturer, sitting up straight. He pushes his glasses back to the bridge of his nose. Without moving his head he casts a quick look at me.

__________________________

The rest of the lecture was simply a game of glances between me and the mystery man.

When the lecturer closed the session, I bundled my notes and pens into my rucksack and waited in my seat. I looked over to the hot geek, who was very carefully arranging his notes, very carefully putting his pens into his pencil case one at a time, and very carefully tidying everything away into his leather satchel. He then stood and slipped into his blue blazer, which brought out the blue of his eyes behind his black-framed glasses. I also noticed he was incredibly tall, and moved with very fluid motions. He was quite captivating.

His eyes glanced over towards me, and he gave me a curt nod, before pacing the satchel over his shoulder and disappearing out of the lecture theatre.

_______________________________________

During the week I managed to speak with a fellow physics classmate, and ask them about the tall older man. They didn’t know much more than me - other than that he was a post-grad student taking some degree-level classes purely to help with his work. No-one had really spoken to him, and he seemed to keep himself to himself.

I’m not an overly friendly girl, but I figured I may as well say Hi to him next time.

And so, the lecture rolled around again.

I sat in the same spot, with my jeans and jangly arm-wear.

Shortly after, he arrived, sitting at the end of my row, alone, in his Oxford shirt, bow tie and suit.

I looked over to him and gave him a smile, which appeared to make him fluster a little, and he faffed about with his satchel.

"Hello," I casually waved in his direction.

He stopped wrestling with his bag, and looked up at me, blinking behind his glasses. He smiled, gave a little nod, and flapped his hand in an awkward ‘hi’.

Hmmm. Shy.

"Are you on a physics course, or are you just taking these classes?" I tried to strike up some friendly conversation.

He sat down tentatively, fidgeting with the ends of his jacket sleeves, and pushed his glasses on his nose.

"Y-yes," he nodded, and smiled, then turned back to his satchel, where he took out his pencil case.

Yes, what? Bit confused. Oh well.

"I’m just taking these as a break from sociology."

He nods awkwardly, and starts lining up his pens into a neat row on the desk in front of him.

"Um…," I frown, "I’m Sarah." I smile, hoping he’ll at least acknowledge me.

He fumbles in his blazer pocket, and pulls out what looks like a business card.

Oh my God.

He slides it across the desk towards me, nods at me, then resumes his stationary arranging.

_Tom Hiddleston, Physics Student, University of Warwick_

I turn the card over, but there’s no phone number or email address or anything useful.

Oh well, at least I know his name.

"Hello, Tom," I smile meekly.

"H-hello, Sarah," he stammers, and sits rigidly, staring straight ahead at the currently empty lecture lectern.

"Have you been at this university a long time?"

He looks down. “Um, no, not really, i don’t suppose, a while, i think…,” he mumbles, looking very uncomfortable.

I hope it’s not me. Maybe he doesn’t like me. Maybe he just wants to be left alone to order his pencils. So, I give up.

___________________

I practically _ignore_ Tom for the rest of the lecture. Too much hard work, despite his perfect cheekbones and air of mystery. He may or may not have looked over at me. I simply don’t care. I’m going to go to the cafe straight afterwards and buy an ice cream. Then I’m going to go to the local skate park and watch _properly cute_ guys there. _Guys who don’t wear bow ties and ignore me, Tom Hiddleston_.

I shove my belongings into my bag and practically leap out of my seat once the lecture is over, entirely focused on getting myself a choc ice.

"S-sarah," I hear someone call behind me. 

Hmmm. Do i turn around? I really want an ice cream… and to be with people who I can actually have a conversation with.

 ”Sarah, w-wait,” he says softly.

Fine.

I plant a thoroughly-unimpressed expression on my face and whirl around to face him.

He’s reaching a hand out to me, with a small white object in his palm. He gazes at me.

I walk over to him.

It’s an origami bunny.

I can’t help but smile.

"Did you make this?" I ask, wanting to touch it but worried I might poke it undone.

He nods enthusiastically. “Yes. I thought… I.. I thought you might like it?”

"Oh, wow," I don’t know what to say. No-one has ever made me anything before. Ok, so my mother used to make me sandwiches but that doesn’t count.

"Please… t-take it?" Tom offers it to me, and I reach out my palm. He carefully drops it into my hand, and it lands on my skin feather-light.

"Thank you, Tom," I shake my head slightly. "I honestly…,"

He looks a little nervously at me, bows his head, and fumbles with the buckles on his satchel.

"Thank you," I repeat. I take a step closer to him, I want to pat his arm, but he visibly shrinks back a little, and so I nod sheepishly and leave.

__________________________________________

I forgot to buy that ice cream. Instead, I went back to my student hall and put the paper bunny on my book shelf. It was so intricate, so precise, so small, and so cute. I was impressed with Tom’s skills, and intrigued as to why he gave it to me, considering he didn’t really seem to like talking with me.

Another week passed. I was feeling a little antsy before entering my next physics lecture. I wanted to speak more with Tom, and yet I got the impression he wasn’t entirely comfortable around me.

When I arrived at the theatre, he wasn’t there yet, so I settled into my usual spot, waiting. I must confess that I had decided to wear my favourite pink lipstick today, purely because I was seeing Tom. He probably wouldn’t notice or care, but it made me feel a tiny bit more confident.

Shortly before the lecture started, Tom appeared, shuffling into the end of my row, although this time sitting a few seats closer to me. _Progress, i guess_.

We exchange smiles.

"I kept your bunny," I say quietly.

He chuckles, and adjusts his glasses. Is he _blushing_? “Well…,” he begins, and tugs at his bow tie.

"Thank you again, it was so sweet of you." I smile, and watch as he rubs his palms on his thighs.

He takes out a text book and practically buries his nose in it, avoiding me.

I raise my eyebrows, and my attention is taken by the professor announcing a short class test before the lecture begins.

A stack of sheets are handed out and passed around - a ten question test going over some of the key themes and theories of the past few weeks. They weren’t going to be assessed, thank god, just a way for us to revise what we’ve been studying.

My eyes rove over the questions. Meh. As I pencil in my answers, I give Tom a furtive glance, and he’s hunched over the desk, elbows sticking out, carefully writing his answers, fully engrossed.

"Time up," our professor calls out. "Swap your sheets with the person sitting next to you, you’ll be marking eachother."

Oh. I bet I’ve got 4 out of 10, and Tom’s got 10 out of 10. This’ll be embarrassing.

Tom edges his paper along the desk to me, and I hand mine to him. He takes it gingerly from my hand with a nod.

Well there you go, 10 out of 10 as predicted. I scrawl ‘well done’ next to his score, and pass it back to him.

He finishes writing on my paper, and shuffles it along the desk back to me.

9 out of 10. Phew. With a smiley face next to it. Aw! And there’s something written in red pen at the bottom…

"What’s your favourite chocolate?"

I furrow my brow, and look over at Tom, who is worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, and running his fingers along the desk edge.

"Hey," I whisper loudly. He blinks, and looks at me with raised eyebrows.

"I really like Kit Kat,"

He nods thoughtfully, and turns his attention back to the lecturer.

______________________________________

When the lecture finished, Tom slipped out before I had a chance to speak with him.

So, I made my way out and headed down the corridor towards the sociology department. I had to pick up a paper and check in with one of my tutors.

I had just left my tutors office when I turned a corner and practically walked into Tom.

He raised his hands apologetically and mumbled “Sorry, so sorry, I’m sorry, are you okay? I’m sorry, i didn’t see you, sorry,”

"It’s okay," I giggled, "What are you doing here?"

"Well," he huffs, and nods. "Yes."

"Um, okay…," _Back to this, are we?_

I start to walk past him, but he starts mumbling. “No, please, hold on, w-wait, just let me… I have something..,” He frantically opens his satchel, and pulls out a 12-pack of Kit Kats. “For you,” he waves them at me, an imploring look in his eyes. _  
_

I can’t help but laugh. “Tom!”, I take the packet from his hand, shaking my head in disbelief. “I can’t eat all of these!”

"Maybe… hmm," He struggles for the words, adjusting the satchel strap on his shoulder. "Maybe you could… have one, just one… maybe once a day, or… once every two days, if you wanted to… or … you can, you know… if you want to… make them last, a bit.. more.. if you like"

"How about you have one with me, now?" I start to open the packet, which noisily crunches in my hands.

"Oh, um, I see, oh… i don’t… um.. well I’m not, err…," he shuffles back a little.

"Do you like them?" I ask gently.

"Oh yes! Y-yes, yes, very much, yes, yes," he nods, and wrings his hands.

"Then come with me, let’s find somewhere to sit, and we’ll have a Kit Kat each, okay?"

He bites his lip. “Um, well, okay, if it… if that is okay with you, I’m not sure, really, um…,”

I reach out and grab his hand, making him squeak slightly, and lead him out of the building towards the small courtyard outside. He doesn’t protest - just quietly follows, glancing at me from time to time.

"So," I hand him a Kit Kat as we sit on a small wooden bench. "Thank you for getting me these. And again, for the origami. You’re being so nice to me."

He carefully opens the red Kit Kat foil wrapper, concentrating on not ripping it open.

"I.. um," he relaxes a little as the wrapper has been expertly opened, and breaks off a Kit Kat biscuit. "You seem nice."

I smile. “Thank you. But, well, we hardly know eachother.”

He quietly hums to himself. “You _seem_ nice.”

I sigh. “What do you mean…?,”

"You seem very relaxed in yourself, who you are," he continues, looking at the ground. "I like the way you sit. You’re not on edge. You look… content." He chews. "And you don’t look like anyone else in the room. In this.. place. You look like… Someone. And when you listen to the lecturer, your body leans forward. You’re not passive. And…,"

He continues on like this, picking up on things about me that only a keen observer would have noticed. It’s a little unsettling. I didn’t realise he’d been watching me so intently. And yet, everything he’s saying is very sweet.

"… and when you put your things away in your bag, you seem so purposeful, like you’re about to go into battle, and I wish I could go off with you, but I can’t." He stops himself, and shifts on the bench.

"Wow, Tom, I..,"

"Have another?" he offers me another Kit Kat as a diversion, but I can’t eat any more.

"No, thanks, Tom. Look, um, I know this might seem a bit forward but," I sigh, and notice him wringing his hands again. "I… do you _like_ me? Or.. would you like to go for coffee maybe?”

He fiddles with his satchel buckles. “I.. I’m not very good with coffee, I think… maybe I could, maybe we could have tea?”

"Yes, tea, yes. Okay."

"Alright then," he looks down, blushing again.

He _likes_ me. Hee hee…

I shift a little closer to him on the bench, so my thigh is almost touching his.

He turns a little to face me, although his eyes are still cast down.

I chew my lip. “Tom…,” I begin. “Do I make you nervous?”

He’s very quiet.

"I don’t mean to. Tell me if I am."

"N-no, no..," he shakes his head slowly. "You’re… you’re very nice."

"Hmm," I slowly reach my hand up to rest on his shoulder. He closes his eyes and sighs softly at the contact.

"Is that okay?" I whisper, and he looks up at me through the lenses of his glasses. He gives a small nod.

"I think you’re very nice, too," I smile, and gently squeeze his shoulder. Wow, underneath his clothes there’s a toned body…

He chews on his bottom lip.

"Tom," I lean in a little closer. His eyes shift from my left eye to my right, and he swallows. "I’m attracted to you." His eyes flutter shut briefly, and when he opens them, he wets his bottom lip with his tongue.

I start to lean in even closer, and can smell him - fresh minty shower gel and a dry-cleaned suit.

He gulps, and his breath seems forced.

"S-sarah," his voice falters a little, "I… I don’t know if, I don’t think we should…,"

I stay very still, my face inches from his, and gaze into his blue eyes. He blinks, then looks away.

"We don’t have to," I begin to pull back. Maybe he’s not interested in me in that way.

"N-no, I mean… oh gosh this is embarrassing," he fiddles with his blazer button, and clears his throat. "I… well I’m not very experienced…,"

"Oh honey this is just a kiss!"

"N-no, I mean… I … I’m not a very good kisser and I.. well I don’t want to disappoint you and I…well to tell you the truth I’m not sure… I haven’t really kissed anyone before… I mean, not properly… "

I lean close to him and rest my forehead gently next to his. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “We don’t have to. If this makes you feel uncomfortable, it’s okay.”

He hums lightly.

"Do you… do you really like m-me?" He asks, peering at me through his glasses.

I smile, “Yes.” I tentatively reach my hand to stroke his hair, and he leans into my touch.

"This is n-nice," he breathes, his eyes locked on mine.

"Close your eyes. Don’t worry - I’m right here, it’s okay." I watch as he carefully places his hands at my waist, then shuts his eyes.

"Okay," he whispers, looking a little scared.

I trail the tip of my nose softly along his, slightly bumping his glasses, then I angle my face a little. I brush my lips against his - they’re so soft. I then press my lips to his gently, so gently. His lips don’t move, but I hear him moan in the back of his throat.

I pull away. “Was that okay?”

He slowly opens his eyes and smiles sheepishly, giving a little nod.

"Would you like to try again?" I ask, and this time it is he who leans in, angling his head towards me.

I close my eyes and wait. I feel his perfect, sweet lips tenderly brush over mine, while a fingertip traces along my cheek.

I feel my heart flutter.

"Was that okay?" he whispers next to my mouth.

"Mmm," I moan. "You’re good at this."

He chuckles lightly. “I could be better.”

I carefully wrap my arms around his neck and look at him, his face so close to mine.

"Y-you make me flustered." He looks helplessly at me.

"That’s okay," I giggle. "It means you like me."

"Okay…," he breathes and nods.

"I think this is enough for one day," I pull away slowly. "We can have another go at kissing next time."

"N-next time?" Tom frowns a little, and drops his hands from my waist.

"Yes. Next time. Next time we might progress to tongues."

Toms eyebrows fly up to his forehead, and he blinks rapidly behind his glasses.

"Oh. _Oh_. Well, okay then. Right.” He starts biting his thumbnail, and looks at me with concern.

I shake my head and smile at him. “Until then, we have Kit Kats. Lots and lots of Kit Kats.”

_________________________________

He agreed to meet me at the park. I’d told him to bring some snacks to eat. And so, I arrived with a Tesco bag full of crisps, a can of coke, and some cheap pasta, while he brought a picnic hamper.

A hamper. With a checkered fabric cover.

And in said hamper were homemade, crust-less sandwiches wrapped in foil, homemade lemonade, a bowl of potato salad, a punnet of strawberries and disposable cutlery.

He laid down the blanket he’d brought and we settled down to eat.

He looked dapper in a light green shirt tucked into khaki suit trousers. He was also wearing white braces. He rolled his shirt sleeves up and I got a glimpse of his sculpted forearms.

Conversation was minimal, no surprise there, but it felt nice to be taken care of. I wasn’t used to being treated nicely, not by guys. It’s not that I’d been treated _badly_ before - just not as considerately, or with as much effort, as this.

It made me want to kiss him even more.

Full and contended, we lay back on the blanket. I reached over to hold his hand. He gave it a small squeeze.

"Thank you," I said, and looked over at him.

His profile is mesmerising. I can’t believe…

"May I ask, how come you haven’t kissed anyone before?"

He is silent and still. Oops.

He closes his eyes. “I suppose I had never found anyone worth kissing before.”

"Really?" I muse. Surely he must have crossed paths with some attractive women.

"Really," he says quietly. "I don’t think a kiss is just a kiss." He turns his head a little to face me. "It does mean something."

I feel his fingers stroking the back of my hand. “It’s giving something of yourself.”

His gaze is intense. “Have you kissed many men?”

I close my eyes briefly.

"I haven’t actually," I honestly confess. "Not by most people’s standards. Three men. One was in a play, so I guess that doesn’t count."

Tom giggles.

I sigh. “I guess it’s the same as you, really. Never felt someone… I rarely feel that _pull_ to share a kiss with someone.”

"Why me?" Tom turns onto his side, facing me.

I smile. “Some things can’t be explained, not even by particle physics,” I turn onto my side to face him, our heads close to eachother. “There’s something about you…,” I trail off, and shrug.

"Well…," he murmurs, and strokes my hair with his fingers.

"Well, indeed…," I smile, and lean in to kiss him.

And I can taste his soul.

I can feel his adoration as his tongue begins to flicker across my lips.

I can sense his tentative curiosity as his fingers wander to stroke along my jaw.

I moan into his mouth.

And I’d never been kissed. Not like this. Not from someone who means it. Not from someone who shows how he feels through the pace and pressure of his lips against mine.

Perhaps he’d never been kissed before, but he naturally knows how to kiss - sweetly, communicatively, responsively.

Kisses weren’t kisses before Tom.


End file.
